


Love, Like Darkness, Like Light

by Talullah



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-29 23:48:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3915253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/pseuds/Talullah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Persephone has a mind and a heart of her own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Family

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sparrowinsky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparrowinsky/gifts).



> Many, many thanks to my beta, the formidable Jaiden_S, who betaed this all on the deadline.
> 
> [Disclaimer/Blanket Statement](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/profile)

Zeus, her father, Persephone had known from a few brief visits to her home. Demeter had never been in a good mood during those. There he sat, at his throne. Persephone didn’t mind that he did not step down to great her on her first visit to the Olympus. Or she tried not to. Despite his absence from her life, he was her father.

But then again, by his side was his wife, Hera. Persephone had never met her, but even if she was not sitting by Zeus’s side, she would have been easy to identify. Sparks flew from her eyes whenever she glanced at Demeter. Such a waste. Persephone would have died for a sister and yet here were two sisters, from the same mother, from the same father, who hated each other. At least she had Hestia for an aunt. She glanced at the quiet presence standing by Hera’s side and slightly bowed her head. Sometimes Hestia would visit them, Demeter and her, at the grain fields. She was sweet and kind, almost as if she was not made from some other mettle than the rest of Cronos’s brood.

Poseidon, standing by Zeus’s side, she had never seen, but recognized him easily from her mother’s tales. And then, by Poseidon’s side, a dark presence. She had seen him as soon as they had entered the halls. Leather garments, black cloth, shaved face but with stubble. He did not belong here anymore than she did. She tried not to look at him as she was introduced over and over again to complicated relatives. Mother had not prepared her for this level of entanglement. Everybody was something to everybody, the names, the powers, more or less visible, but never really explained. And the figure in black, the one who avoided her gaze, jaw set square. 

Persephone felt foolish. He looked annoyed, which was probably better than amused. But she so wanted to know who he was. Eventually, Zeus’s rose from his throne and came down to Demeter and her. Persephone knew why she was here, to find a match, obviously. She also knew Demeter was not there of her own will. 

“Daughter of mine, welcome at last to your father’s home. How do you like it up here in the mountain?”

Persephone smiled. “I liked it very much, Father. The air feels altogether different.”

Zeus laughed, and Persephone felt she had said something not quite funny, but somehow important.

“Have a cup, child,” Zeus said, handing her a cup of golden liquid. 

The amber. Demeter never let her have it down back home. It seemed to call to her, and at the first sip, her ichor all but boiled in her veins. Her gaze crossed with the stranger’s again, and a rush of heat assailed her between her legs. She coughed, averting her reddened face.

“Father, this is fire, liquid fire!” she said, trying to recompose herself.

Zeus laughed again. “You will grow to like it.”

“Oh, but I do, already.”

Zeus smiled at her and kissed her forehead. Then, he walked away. Persephone should be happy that she had gotten as much attention from her father, but to her, the lights dimmed when she looked again only to find the stranger leaving, his back turned, not even a single glance back.

The rest of the evening was dull. Her mother’s silent, angry presence by her side seemed to keep at bay most of the others, save for Hermes and Apollo. She was not sure either of them was really interested in her, or if they wanted to annoy Demeter, or each other, or if it was some sort of game. Maybe it was the thin air or the nectar, but everything seemed off there. The laughter, especially. Persephone hated the laughter there. Only Zeus’s sounded true.

“Kore, we must go,” said Demeter, just before the sun rose. “We have done our part, as commanded by our Lord King Zeus.”

Persephone bowed her head in acquiescence and followed her mother.


	2. Home

“Mother,” Persephone said, a few days later, “who was the one clad in black beside Poseidon?” She has waited patiently for the best opportunity to ask. Demeter was rambling again about the uselessness of most everybody they had met in Olympus, as their maids listened, half amused, half terrified. None of them was ready for the violence of Demeter’s outburst.

“We do not talk of him in this house!” she said, rising up so quickly that her robe pushed a basket of mustard seeds from the table.

“Why?” Persephone asked, as she knelt to pick up the seeds. She knew it was not a good idea to press on.

“Hades chose darkness and death. He is the antithesis of what we do here. First born of my mother, but last born of my father, he seems to have taken all the worst of your grandfather.”

Persephone lowered her head and kept picking up the seeds, as Demeter stormed off. When her mother was well out of ear range she looked at Eleni and raised an eyebrow. The servant shook her head. Persephone took hold of Eleni’s arm. 

“Please?” she asked.

“Why do you care?” Eleni replied.

Persephone blushed. “For nothing. I just thought it odd, that he would not speak to us, at the Olympus. I never though Mother had a third brother.”

“And you had better forget him too, now,” Eleni replied. “Hades is the Lord of the Underworld. He reaps the souls of the dead. No life comes from his abode underground.”

“Do they suffer? The souls?”

“Child, you ask such questions! How would I know? They say those who did evil deeds are punished. Others are just left being. But hush now.”

Eleni quickly picked up the last seeds and left the room, holding the basket to her chest.

Persephone left the room and walked on to the garden. The sun shone through the rain. She squinted against the sky. Reaper of souls. That made some sense. Why should the souls linger around if the bodies are long gone? She walked away from the house. When she finally turned back, it was nothing but a white dot in the greenscape. All her work. Her mother was the goddess of fruit. She ripened, she goldened, she sweetened. But it washer, Persephone, not Kore, not child – even a servant calls her child – who brought out the things that bore fruit. She was the one who made all the seeds unfurl and shoot up from the dark earth toward the sky. It was her blessing that made the greenery lush. And yet, she would never bear fruit. Not with her mother keeping guard like she did at the Olympus. 

She sat under an oak. Her robe was ruined, the hems frayed and brown beyond all repair. She could almost hear Demeter “Kore, the earth gave us that linen – it should not be so carelessly treated.” And then, months later, when it was time to sow linen again, some reminder of why they needed so much linen.

Persephone sighed. Then she forgot about her mother and thought of him, again. His lips were tight like a line, unsmiling, but she wanted to kiss them, still. When would it be the next time that they meet, if ever? How would all that leather feel under her hands? Why does he dress like that? And how would he look undressed? He looked like a warrior, more than a lord god. Persephone contained the sound that was about to leave her mouth. There was no point in dreaming of something that will never come.

But as Persephone walked back home, she rebelled against her own thoughts. Why, why should it never come to be? Wasn’t she a goddess in her own right? Why should she be kept a girl all her life, never changing? Why, when there was this fire in her chest and between her thighs?

By the time she arrived home, dark had fallen, and her mind was set. She washed and went to bed. Now that she had a plan, she only needed patience. And that, she had plenty.


	3. Night

It was not easy, convincing Demeter to let her be better acquainted with her sisters and other denizens of the Olympus, but Zeus, perhaps to compensate for his absence in her life, arranged for several visits after the first one. Helios and Apollo quickly lost interest in her, confirming her initial impression, but she was glad to find some friendship with Artemis and Athena. She liked those half-sisters, so different from each other and yet so alike. Compared to them, she felt even more Kore, just a girl, not formidable in any way. But they were kind to her and took her with them hunting and to the city of men. Their worlds of choice were so different from her own plains of grain that the novelty never wore off. 

And yet, Persephone was not easily distracted. At every visit, she hoped to cross gazes with Hades again. Seldom was he a guest at his brother’s home, though. And in the few times he was, Persephone hardly had a chance to properly see him, let alone talk to him. Her heart raced every time, and she suspected she might not be able to deliver the thousand-times-rehearsed words she had prepared for their first conversation.

“My…” she heard Athena say, in one of those gatherings, as she came come from behind her and held her by the waist. “Little sister, you put me to shame.”

Persephone blushed so fiercely her cheeks hurt. “What do you mean, sister?” she asked, stiff in her place.

“For all the smarts I have, it took me long enough to figure what you were hiding, ever since you came here.” Athena’s tone was light enough. Persephone was not sure if she was being taunted or if something more menacing lurked beneath her sister’s words.

“Leave her be, Athena,” Artemis said. “Poor Kore,” she said, kissing Persephone’s flaming cheek as she looked directly into Hades’s eyes across the room. “You have no idea.”

“I…” Persephone thought of lying but there was no point. “Please don’t tell Mother.” It was bad enough, the humiliation. Demeter’s fury at being lied to and disobeyed would be worse.

Athena laughed. “Do not worry, sister. We wouldn’t dream of. It’s quite endearing, actually.”

Artemis laughed, too. “You’re being mean, Athena. But Kore, lift your eyes.” Persephone obeyed. 

“You are a goddess, not a village maid. Swallow your nectar. It is time you met Uncle proper.”

Persephone tried to refuse, but her sisters dragged her across the room. Some heads turned. Before she made a spectacle of herself, Persephone lifted her chin and carried herself. Maybe this was the chance she had been waiting for.

“Hades,” said Athena. 

Hades did not reply.

“Uncle,” said Artemis. “Have you met Persephone? Demeter’s daughter?”

“I know whose daughter she is,” Hades said, turning to leave.

Persephone filled her lungs. “It is an honor and a pleasure, Uncle,” she said, curtsying. 

Hades stopped and lifted an eyebrow. “I doubt your mother would agree.”

“I am not my mother.”

Hades took a step toward Persephone. He seemed to grow taller, or the room darker. Persephone held her back straight, and, to the last minute, his gaze. She could do this, she thought, she could. He kept looking straight into her eyes and she held on, enduring the soul crushing weight of them. Somber he was, as she was light. She had not thought of that in those terms before. She was light. Goddess in her own right. She felt herself grow upwards, her chest projecting forward. The moment stretched, until Hades bowed his head. 

“A pleasure, niece,” he said, leaving instantly.

“My,” said Artemis. Athena took Persephone’s arm. “We should go too, sister.”

* * *

That night, Persephone was restless. She was bound to leave the Olympus the next day for the plains. Demeter never allowed her to stay more than a fortnight. The meeting had been both more and less that what she had idealized. The ichor raced through her veins and the thoughts tangled in her mind. Was it good that they had talked at last? Was it bad that it had seemed more a contest of wills than a game of seduction? Why had she held his gaze? She should have been less daring. And why had he left that way, with nothing but an unfelt farewell? When would she see him again?

She rose from bed and wandered through the halls to the balcony. Perched at the railing was Athena, bathing in the moonlight. 

“I think better at night,” she said, without turning to face Persephone.

“I can’t sleep. You must think I’m foolish.” Persephone crossed the distance between them and took hold of Athena’s arm. “I’m sorry. I really like you. I did not mean to be deceitful.”

Athena smiled. “I know. Sister, we are for different worlds, but I know passion when I see it. Mine is simply directed at other things. But Hades? If someone told me, I would not have believed it. And yet, in that moment, the world stood still for you both.”

Persephone shook her head. “No, it was all wrong.” She breathed deeply, trying not to be embarrassed by the anguish in her voice. “I always thought it would be different, when we finally spoke.”

Athena smiled. “You are talking to the wrong one… Aphrodite would be of much better assistance.”

“No, no, please don’t tell her. I don’t think she likes Mother but still.”

“Honey, your mother is hard to like. Her competence and her relevance make her haughty. For her, we are parasites, preying on the human’s fears. She doesn’t have many friends here, by her own choice.”

“She’s good,” Persephone said. “She does good work and she is a very loving mother to me.”

“And she is indeed wonderful and powerful and essential in every way. Just not easy to love.”

Athena hopped from her perch and held Persephone, as both gazed at the moon.

“What will you do now?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I need to see him again.”

“That can be arranged…”

“I don’t think Mother will let me come again so soon. And he is not often here, in any case.”

“Do not fret. Artemis and I will take care of it.”

Persephone held Athena tighter. “I wish I had known you for longer.”

“I love you too, little sister.”


	4. Meadows

Athena kept to her word. Less than a moon later, Artemis was down to the plains. Of the two, she was the one Demeter liked the better, the keeper of wild things, provider of game for the hungry peasant. Artemis understood the earth and its cycles, albeit choosing the forest. And so, Demeter let Persephone leave with her sister, to the fields of Nysa.

Athena, wily and smart to a fault, also did her part. Not many venture to the underworld, but the love of books and quietness was not a sign of cowardice. Athena went as far as her uncle’s door, and negotiated Cerberus’s fury until he was tame and obediently fetched his lord.

“Hades.” She took pleasure in never calling him or Poseidon by uncle. “There is something that you want, by the fields of Nysa.”

“There is nothing that I want above ground.”

“Lying is ugly, Uncle.”

“Uncle?”

“Are you coming?”

Athena left. She knew he was coming.

Persephone doubted that. She waited, picking flowers, trying to hold her tongue, bathing in the river with her sisters, picking more flowers. She doubted that he would come. But he did. By the third day, she wandered off, despondent, feeling her skin burn under the scorching sun. She searched for the shade of the oak copse, when she heard thundering hooves. A chariot, she thought. Her heart all but leapt from her mouth. He stopped when he saw her and hopped down.

“You sent for me.”

Persephone swallowed. “I did.” Her breathing was shallow and her ears rang. She stepped towards him and held out a hand, her fingertips almost touching him. He gently pushed her hand away.

“Your mother…”

Persephone closed the distance between them and kissed him on the lips. It was more a clumsy press of flesh than a proper kiss, but he held her. 

“I am not my mother,” she breathed, leaning her forehead to his shoulder. She looked up, and this time, it was him who kissed her, deeply, expertly. Her knees trembled. She remembered her maids talking of such feelings and how silly she thought they were.

“Persephone,” he whispered. She sensed resistance, words that would come and end this, but this could end because it was perfect and scary and right. Before he could say a thing, she did the trick, the thing she learned at the Olympus, and she grew a little, made herself tall and fierce. She kissed him, took his hands and wrapped them around her, pressed herself against his body, feeling the hardness of muscle, the scent of leather, the arousal bellow. She trembled as she pulled him down on her to the grass. Daisies bloomed as she lay, the leaves rustled above, perfect summer under the canopy, shadow and light playing. They loved each other to exhaustion.

Later, as dusk fell, he spoke. “I cannot go to your mother’s house and court you. We have a very old… divergence.”

“I know.” Persephone closed her eyes. This was the hard part. “Take me with you.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

“It’s no place for you, queen of light.”

“Take me.” 

Persephone rose, covered herself and walked to the chariot. “Take me,” she said, holding out her hand.

Hades followed her.


	5. Despoina

“She will not budge, my heart,” Hades says, kissing Persephone’s hand, then her forehead as he sits by her side on the dais.

She leans against his shoulder and bites her lip. She was expecting as much, when Hermes came, yet another time, with a message from Zeus. She feels torn. She loves him, desperately, and she has grown to love his house, the place of shadows where nothing grows. She is woman there. Not Kore, not girl, but woman, full, ripe, lady of herself. But the green. She misses the green, the budding, the sprouting of seeds, the unfurling of leaves, the blooming of flowers. That too is her.

With Hades, it is a never-ending night of passion, his seed on her, the kisses, the words, the abandon. And she loves world, she does. Here, she is not second. She is herself. But not all of herself. She feels like she is losing something of her very essence, hard as it may be to say what it is. And her mother. She misses her too. She is not afraid anymore of what Demeter might say or shout at her. She misses how they worked together to the making of something larger. The men and women, the famine…

As if reading her mind, Hades speaks. “You want to leave.”

“I want to stay too.”

He sighs. Persephone faces him. “I love you.”

He shakes his head. “Maybe. Or you were infatuated. And now you’ll leave…”

“I love you,” Persephone says. Next to them is a table full of the fruits of the earth. It was a gift from Hades, a souvenir of sorts from home. Grapes, apples, pears, pomegranates… Persephone rises and cuts open a pomegranate. She takes a few seeds in her hand and comes to Hades, straddling him. She places a seed on his lips. “Shh,” she says, before he tries to speak. She kisses him, pushing the seed through his lips with her tongue. Then she plays with his tongue and the seed until he is sitting up, holding her closer, thrusting up. She bites the seed and laps the juice from his mouth, swallowing it with his saliva. He stares at her. Both know what it means as she takes another seed and places it on her mouth. She takes her dress off and lowers herself on to him, moving slowly. He takes another seed, holding it between his thumb and his forefinger. She bites his thumb, taking the seed as she speeds up the pace.

Within her, is their son. He doesn’t know it yet, but he will. Life she will bring forth from the underworld, a god who will last through the ages, the fruit of her and him. Dionysius, light and dark, dark and light. Hades pushes her back and lies on top, moving faster, bringing them closer to that moment. Light and dark, stars explode.

“I love you,” she pants, as they quiet down.

He looks into her eyes, into her soul. He believes.

_Finis  
May 2015_


End file.
